


"Lost and Found"

by Coralrose10



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-14 07:09:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11202990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coralrose10/pseuds/Coralrose10
Summary: The year is 1994.  In the wake of the success of SCHINDLER'S LIST, Ralph Fiennes (who portrayed Amon Goeth in the movie) and Alex Kingston, his wife, arrive in Los Angeles for the Academy Awards.  Somewhat "lost" in his new surroundings and still grieving his mother's recent death, Ralph is supported emotionally by Steven Spielberg and his family.





	"Lost and Found"

**Author's Note:**

> "Lost and Found" is a fanfic that deals with events leading up to the 1994 Oscars, from actor Ralph Fiennes' perspective. Though essentially a fantasy, this story also incorporates quite a few facts and direct quotations.

**“Lost and Found”**

   Filing off the airplane with the other passengers, actor Ralph Fiennes and his actress wife, Alex Kingston, at once found themselves inside the bright, “arrivals” area of Los Angeles International Airport. It was February 1994; the newlywed couple from England had just made their third-ever trip to California–-to attend the Academy Awards, where 31-year-old Ralph would be “up” for a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his role as the Nazi commander Amon Goeth in Steven Spielberg’s _Schindler’s List_. Though the vivacious, 30-year-old Alex that night had a dinner date with her American agent (who had a role or two in mind for her), she was more than looking forward to supporting Ralph in two days’ time at the glamorous Oscar ceremony, for which she had bought herself a brand-new evening gown and purse.

Even now one might think that the red haired Alex–in her backless, yellow sundress–was a native Californian, so at ease did she seem as she strolled, with her husband, through the airport’s main doors and out into the sunshine of a 75-degree day. By contrast, Ralph–naturally rather introverted–seemed pensive and a little nervous. He wore a linen shirt, but it had long sleeves; between it, his dark trousers, and his timid expression, the blond Ralph looked (Alex thought, giggling inwardly) a bit like a fish out of water.

In fact, Ralph was (however quietly) drinking in his surroundings: the sunlight, the palm trees, the pedestrians, and the potted, colorful flowers such as he had never seen in England. From her bag Alex pulled a sample vial of perfume she had been given on the plane and handed it to Ralph.  
“That’s orange blossom,” she informed him as he inhaled deeply, savoring the exotic and delicious scent.  
“It’s _lovely_ , isn’t it,” Ralph said with wonder. He inhaled again.  
Alex giggled and took his arm. “Since you like it so much, perhaps you’ll buy me a bottle.”

***

At the front desk of the hotel where the couple was staying, Ralph was told that a message had been left for him earlier–by Steven Spielberg.  
“He wants me to ring him back,” Ralph told Alex when they had reached their room.  
For whatever reason, Ralph felt a bit odd simply picking up a phone in LA and ringing up “Steven Spielberg”–even if he _was_ a colleague and a friend. Nevertheless, the young actor returned the call.  
“Hi, Ralph!” exclaimed Steven, recognizing the soft, English voice right away. “Welcome to Los Angeles again!”  
“Thank you!”  
Ralph and Alex had made their very first visit to California in early December 1993, to attend the Los Angeles premiere of _Schindler’s List_. It was only an overnight trip, however, and had allowed for little sightseeing.  
“Listen–if you and Alex are free later, I’d love to show you around,” Steven continued. “It would be just you two, Katie”–Katie was Steven’s wife–“my mother, and me. I don’t know if I ever told you this, but my mother owns a restaurant here in town called the Milky Way. We could go there for dinner–and then we could take a walk, or do whatever you’d like.”  
Ralph smiled. Steven had so much energy–in “real life” as on a film set. He himself seemed almost dull by comparison.  
“Thanks, Steven,” Ralph heard himself say. “I’m afraid Alex is having dinner with her agent this evening. But I can come with you.”  
“Hey, wonderful. I’ll pick you up in front of your hotel at 6:00; would that be good?”  
“That would be great!”  
“Okay! See you then, Ralph. I’m glad you and Alex have arrived safely.”

When Ralph rang off, he realized that his face was flushed with pleasure. Even over the telephone, Steven had put him at ease and made him feel welcome. Really, he knew few other people with the famous director’s combination of enthusiasm and kindness. It was what Ralph had liked best about him ever since first meeting him, in London, over a year ago now.

“He wanted to take us both out to dinner, but I told him you had plans. So I’m going with Steven and his family at 6:00,” said Ralph to his wife, who was busy unpacking their suitcases.  
“Aw, what a pity,” Alex pouted. Having put away Ralph’s cologne, she gave him a kiss. “Because, you know, I’d really rather be with you.”  
Ralph kissed Alex back; he saw the coaxing look in her eyes. “Not yet, darling,” he said gently. “We’ve both got to leave soon; we’ll enjoy it more tonight, when we don’t have to rush. You’ll see.”  
She wanted a child; Ralph knew this well. He also knew that he himself was not ready to be a father–not now, and perhaps not ever. But he hated confrontation, and hadn’t the heart to tell Alex how he truly felt. Oh, they should have sorted this issue out _before_ they were married! “What a damned fool I am,” thought Ralph now. “Poor Alex...”  
Feeling more than a twinge of guilt, he led her to the bed–where the two of them, fully clothed, laid down and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

***

When Ralph awoke, it was to the sight of Alex getting dressed for her engagement. “You’d better get ready as well,” she said. “It’s nearly 5:00.”  
Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Ralph hurried to the bathroom, where a shower helped him wake up fully. Once out of the stall, he patted his hair dry and put on his clothes: gray trousers; polished shoes; a teal-blue, silk shirt–-and the sapphire cufflinks his late mother, Jini Lash Fiennes, had given him on his 20th birthday. Ralph had been devastated by his mother’s premature death (from breast cancer) two months ago; he was still grieving, in fact, and was beginning to feel, more and more, the value of “little things” associated with her. Simply looking at those cufflinks, for example, made Ralph nostalgic; when he put them on, he felt close once again to the beautiful mother who had so nurtured and loved him.

Ralph blinked back tears, amazed at how easily one’s good mood could be spoiled by unhealed grief. His hand went to his trouser pocket. Yes, his handkerchief was there, in case he should need to use it later. For the moment, he was okay. After dabbing on some cologne and fingering the cufflinks one last time, he quickly left the bathroom and the suite.

***

From the driver’s seat window of a white sports car parked in front of the hotel, Ralph saw the actress Kate Capshaw, Steven’s wife, wave to him. Pointing to her left, she drove slowly around to that side of the hotel; Ralph followed and then, once the car had stopped, approached its passenger side. He knew well the reason for all this: the Spielbergs did not wish to attract a mob. Nor did Ralph, who liked his privacy.

Ralph entered the passenger side swiftly, lest he be recognized. “Thanks for that,” he said, when he was seated.  
The next thing he knew, he was being embraced by Kate, whom he remembered from her many visits to the _Schindler’s List_ set.  
“It’s so good to see you, Ralph!” she exclaimed. “You’ve really slimmed down! You look great!”  
Here she referred to the fact that Ralph, to play the hedonistic Goeth convincingly, had deliberately added twenty-five pounds to his naturally slight, 5'10.5" frame. Ralph had disliked being so heavy; after filming had finished the previous May, he promptly lost the weight--which process had been expedited by the stress of seeing his beloved mother sicken and die. “But I can’t dwell on that right now,” he thought impatiently.

The subject of Jini, however, was not destined to be far from Ralph’s mind that evening; from the backseat of the car, Steven grasped his hand and said, “Welcome, Ralph. I’m so glad you’re here. And let me just say again how sorry I am about your mother.”  
“Thank you,” Ralph heard himself say.  
“Me too,” said Kate, gently touching his arm. “My condolences.”  
“Thank you,” Ralph said again, feeling somewhat awkward. “And thank you both once again for–for the sympathy card you sent. It meant a lot to me. Thank you.”  
“It was no trouble at all,” said Steven. "We're glad to hear it gave you comfort."  
The mood in the car had turned solemn. Perhaps sensing that her guest was about to be tearful, Kate said brightly, “Well! Let’s get going! And I’ll take the longer route to the restaurant–so you can see some things, Ralph.”  
During the ride, the Spielbergs pointed out various landmarks to their guest. Ralph marveled at everything he was shown; it all seemed so exotic to him. Arriving at the Milky Way, he realized that his sadness had lessened, and that he was hungry.  
“It’s a Kosher restaurant, just so you know, Ralph,” said Steven pleasantly as they entered. In response to Ralph’s quizzical look, he elaborated, “All the food’s prepared according to the Jewish dietary laws. Basically, it just means there’s no pork or shellfish. In fact, there’s a funny story about that–“  
“Which we’ve heard a hundred times,” groaned Kate.  
“Well, Ralph’s never heard it ” laughed Steven.  
“Later,” said Kate. “Here’s Mom, anyway.”

Sure enough, a petite lady of about 65, wearing an eye-catching red jacket and skirt, was approaching them, beaming all the while.  
“Ralph,” said Steven, putting his arm around the lady. “I’d like you to meet my mother, Leah Adler. Mom, this is Ralph Fiennes, the actor from England.”  
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Adler,” said Ralph, leaning down somewhat to shake her hand.  
“And I’m very pleased to meet _you_ , Mr. Fiennes! Steven’s told me so much about you and all his other actors from the movie. I was at the premiere with Katie and Steven, and I thought your performance was stunning–surprisingly human, too. Welcome to my restaurant.”  
“Thank you. I’m glad to be here.”  
“We’ll give you a good meal,” she continued. “Steven, why don’t the three of you sit down over there”–she pointed to a partitioned section of the restaurant–“if you want to eat in peace.” She winked.  
“We definitely do,” answered Steven, with a rueful smile. “Don’t we, Ralph?”  
In the same spirit, Ralph smiled back. “Yeah, I don’t much want to deal with _all that_ tonight–even though Alex isn’t here to be jealous of my female fans.”

***

Having seen her three famous patrons seated and served, Leah went off to oversee her wait-staff. Ralph–as much as he was enjoying Kate and Steven’s company–soon found himself actually _missing_ Steven’s mother when she was not near their table. He began to wish that he could have a private word with her. Here he was, thousands of miles from home, facing a highly anticipated Oscar ceremony, a very public win or loss–and an uncertain future. What he wouldn’t give to have a mother’s advice right now....  
“Was it your mum who encouraged you to become a director?” he asked Steven during a lull in the conversation.  
“She encouraged me to be creative,” the older man replied, “but she didn’t steer me to that particular field; I discovered it myself. That was the thing, I think: she never tried to make me into what _she_ wanted me to be. Actually, Mom was–still is–a pianist and a painter.”  
“Really?” Ralph was delighted. “My mum painted.”  
“And wrote novels,” put in Kate.  
“That’s right.”  
Indeed, Jennifer (“Jini”) Lash had been a renowned author. Her final novel, _Blood Ties_ , had still to be published.  
“Did she encourage you to become an actor, Ralph?” was Steven’s question.  
“Well, it was the same as with you, I suppose, Steven. My mum was artistic, so we all were as well.” Here Ralph referred to his five siblings. “I started off at art college and then changed to acting. The change was my own decision–and Mum supported me. So many parents wouldn't have, but Mum was different; it was inspiration that mattered to her, always. She had this saying, ‘Put your gut into it.’ All my life–whatever I felt inspired to do, she just wanted me to give it my very best effort–“  
Ralph paused; he was getting choked up. Slightly embarrassed, he took a long sip of Coke.  
“That’s _excellent_ advice for anyone,” Steven remarked as Ralph composed himself. “But especially for an artist.”  
Ralph nodded his agreement. Again there were tears in his eyes–which were threatening to fall. As surreptitiously as he could, he took his handkerchief out and touched it to his eyes, while Kate kindly poured him more Coke. Smiling faintly, he whispered his thanks.

Suddenly, the knowing and empathetic look on Steven’s face turned to one of good-natured amusement. “And now for that Kosher story I promised,” he announced. “Ralph, I only hope you’ll find this as funny as I always have. First, you must understand that Jews aren’t supposed to eat lobster, and that Mom and I both loved it when I was growing up. (We were minimally observant then, anyway.) One day, when I was 9, we bought two huge lobsters. We took them home and were just about to plop them into a pot of boiling water, when who should pull up in our driveway? That’s right: _the local rabbi_. He drives up; Mom sees him from the kitchen window–and you can practically hear the TV laugh track. ‘Steven,’ she orders me, ‘go and hide the lobsters under your bed!’ I grab both live lobsters, run them down the hall, and shove them under. ‘Just in time,’ you know. Mom lets the rabbi in...and where in the house does he decide to go first? Yeah–into _my_ room, _for a visit_. Well, all the time the rabbi’s talking to me, those two lobsters are clicking and clacking under my bed. Meanwhile, the rabbi’s sniffing the air–-probably thinking, ‘Now, what could this un-Kosher smell be–-‘”  
He stopped. Ralph was laughing so hard, his soda had gone down the wrong way; into his napkin he spluttered and coughed, recovering himself.  
“Are you all right, Ralph? I’m sorry. I’ll finish the story when you’re not drinking anything, how’s that,” Steven chuckled.  
“That’s hysterical, Steven,” was Ralph’s comment, when he could speak clearly again. “It’s like a farce. You should put that incident into a film!”  
“Yeah, I’ve often thought so, too.”  
Still grinning, Ralph took his napkin away from his mouth and replaced it in his lap. It was in glancing at his right shirt-cuff that he noticed _it_ : the sapphire cufflink that should have been there– _wasn’t_.

Ralph started, all his mirth gone. Oh God! Was the left cufflink still on? Yes, it was. Still, _one_ of his mother’s precious gifts to him had vanished, which to his mind was a catastrophe...  
“Something wrong, Ralph?” Steven asked.  
Even in his distress, Ralph did not want to appear absurd; he willed his voice not to shake as he explained the situation. “My mother gave them to me,” he finished weakly.  
“Oh no!” gasped Kate.  
“Look on your chair, Ralph,” advised Steven.  
When a search on and under the chair–and then under the table–failed to yield the missing ornament, Steven called over Leah, who suggested searching the entryway floor. “But please let me do it, Mr. Fiennes,” she added solicitously. “You don’t want to get up and be recognized, on top of everything else.”

The three minutes that Leah was gone seemed to Ralph an eternity. He kept glancing about anxiously, while the Spielbergs tried to reassure him. “If Steven’s mom doesn’t find it, I’ll go out and look in the car,” Kate said.  
But Ralph was not so optimistic. “It probably fell off somewhere between the hotel and the car,” he thought. “And in that case, I may never see it again.”  
The seconds ticked by. Just as Ralph was beginning to resign himself to the possibility that he had lost, for good, a thing he valued now more than ever before, his peripheral vision glimpsed something deep blue and glittery. The object was lying in the palm of Leah’s hand...  
“Is this your cufflink, Mr. Fiennes?” she asked.  
It was!  
“ _Thank you_!” sighed Ralph, relief overwhelming him. “Where–where was it?”  
“In front of the door, on the inside,” she smiled. “It’s incredible someone didn’t step on it. Here.”  
Gratefully, Ralph accepted the ornament, and pocketed it. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Adler; it means more to me than I can say, because that cufflink was given me by my mother long before she–died. It’s a–souvenir of her, I suppose. Thank you.”  
He was getting choked up again.  
“You’re welcome, Mr. Fiennes.”  
“Oh, please call me Ralph.”  
“Okay, Ralph! And you can call me Leah. Now, would you like some coffee?”  
“Yes, please.”  
“Better make it decaf,” grinned Steven. “Ralph’s had enough excitement for one night.”

***

As he finished his coffee, Ralph realized that the elation he had felt just minutes before was wearing off, and giving way to melancholy.  
Kate had gone to the restroom; Steven had gotten up to speak with someone. Leah approached the table where the young actor still sat.  
“Ralph,” she began. “I don’t know you very well yet–but you look like you could use a hug. Am I right?”  
Ralph could not deny the truth of what she said.  
“May I give you one?”  
Somewhat taken aback, Ralph gave a little nod.

He had instructed himself not to cry, but his subconscious mind had other ideas. As soon as Leah put her arms around him, Ralph let out a sob. He simply couldn’t help himself. It was such an odd time in his life; so much was troubling him: lingering grief, nerves, uneasiness about the future of his career and of his marriage...  
“Oh...I know, I know,” murmured Leah sympathetically. “You still need your mother, don’t you.”  
His face hidden in the older woman’s shoulder, Ralph nodded again. “I miss her so much,” he confessed brokenly.  
Patting his back, Leah continued, “You know, while he was making _Schindler’s List_ in Poland, Steven used to call me up every week: ‘Mom, everything’s so miserable...Mom, I can’t take much more of this...Mom, I miss you; I wish you were here.’ That’s what he would tell me. And he’s 46 years old! You’re how old, dear?”  
Rubbing at his eyes, Ralph looked up. “Thirty-one.”  
She shook her head sadly. “That’s still very young to be without the woman who gave you life and raised you. I’m so sorry...But is your father still living, Ralph?”  
“Yes, he is.”  
“And do you have brothers and sisters you’re close to?”  
“Yes, definitely.” With a sudden, fond smile, Ralph thought of his siblings, whom he loved as deeply as they loved him. In his heart he was aware that the aftermath of Jini’s death would have been that much more dreadful had he not had loving siblings–and especially his two strong and beautiful sisters, Martha and Sophie–around to comfort him.  
“And do you have a wife? Or a girlfriend? I mean, a handsome man like you...?”  
Blushing, Ralph replied, “Yes–my wife’s name is Alex. We were married last September. She came to Los Angeles with me; she just couldn’t be here tonight. She was my girlfriend at university, and we–rather rushed into our marriage, because of my mum’s illness. We wanted Mum to see us settled, I suppose. But we _are_ in love, and we’ve just started to make our house in London into a real home.”  
“Then you’re lucky,” Leah said gently. “Maybe it’s hard for you to see it just now–but you are. So many families are broken up, separated. It was that way with mine.” She lowered her voice. “To be honest, it took a long time for Steven to get over my divorce (I divorced his father when he was very young). But he finally got over it, and we made up.” She looked into Ralph’s eyes. “Just stay close to your family, dear–and your wife–and I promise you that things will get better.”

******

Ralph stood on the stage of London's Theatre Royal, statuette in hand. Having lost out on the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor, he was presently (in April 1994) being given the British equivalent of an Academy Award: the BAFTA. By now Ralph’s disappointment over his Oscar loss had dissipated–and he was currently relieved to be both “on home turf” and accepting an award he had known in advance that he would receive. Yes, for him the BAFTAs had–all in all–been considerably less ridden with angst than had the Oscars.

And yet they were just as emotional. When Ralph’s name was called, Steven hugged him warmly; when asked to whom he would like to dedicate his win, Ralph thought instantly of the loving woman who had so nurtured his creativity: “I’d like to remember my mother for this award, because of her compassion. She was more a _friend_ than a mother, and no one could have had a better mother...Thank you.”

Somehow, he had managed to utter that statement without his voice breaking. Now Ralph stepped from the podium unsteadily, his vision blurred by the tears in his eyes. He felt so strange: hot, then cold; nauseous; and homesick, though he _was_ “at home.” All around him he could hear the murmurs of the guests: “Ralph Fiennes’ mother died a few months ago...His mum was Jini Fiennes, the author...That was a lovely speech...Very sweet...He was brilliant in the film...His mum would be proud...”

Tears were streaming down Ralph’s face; he ran past the guests–past Alex–and to the nearest bathroom. Once inside the vacant room, Ralph set his trophy down with tender care. Then, leaning over the sink, he sobbed without restraint. As he wept, he recalled the soothing voice of Liam Neeson, his (older) friend and _Schindler’s List_ co-star, who had supported him through both his Oscar loss and the aftermath of Jini’s death. Speaking from the experience of having lost his own father, Liam said, “The grief will pass, Ralph. It’ll take time is all.” Even here and now, Ralph found those words a comfort...

He had stopped sobbing and was rinsing his face with cold, tap water when Steven entered. The intuitive director (proud recipient of both an Oscar and a BAFTA for _Schindler’s List_ ) approached the sensitive, young actor who had proved such an inspired, if unexpected, choice for the role of Amon Goeth. Noticing Ralph’s red and swollen eyes, Steven embraced him for the second time that day.  
“That was a beautiful speech you gave, Ralph, and I'm very proud of you. Congratulations.”  
“Thanks, Steven,” Ralph choked, his eyes filling back up.  
“Oh, hey now! Don’t start crying again, or you’ll get me going, too,” Steven chided gently, his mind flashing back to his own emotional speech at the Oscars. “Listen, I came in to tell you that, while we're waiting for them to present the next award, we’re going to take some pictures. We want to get one of you and me together, holding our statuettes. But I don’t want to rush you, Ralph. Take all the time in here you need.”  
Ralph smiled brightly: a rainbow after the rain. “I’m ready now.”  
“You sure?”  
“Yeah.”  
“All right,” said Steven with affection as he patted Ralph’s shoulder. “You know, Alex was worried about you.”  
Ralph shrugged. “Was she?”  
Steven flinched in surprise at Ralph’s flat tone. “Well...of course! What, did you two have an argument?”  
Ralph shook his head, his expression darkening. “No, no. It’s just that...” He sighed. “Nothing.” Like a burst of sunshine, his smile suddenly returned. “Come on, Steven. Let’s go take those photos. I _really_ want to have something by which to remember today.”


End file.
